


#12

by olddarkmachine



Series: For the Love of Football [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Choking, Couch Sex, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smoking, Smut, YOU'LL PROBABLY WANNA READ THE FIRST ONE BEFORE THIS, and get in some football, keith secretly loves football and hates all else, shiro is the star quarterback, sorry y'all gotta get through plot before you get to that porn, the football/loner au that some of y'all actually did ask for, we had to explore keith's feelings first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 07:32:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12883089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olddarkmachine/pseuds/olddarkmachine
Summary: He, Keith Kogane, was not dating the quarterback of the football team. Sure, they ate lunch together between classes. And yes, maybe they sometimes held bad movie marathons that went so late one of them would end up having to stay over. They may also even touch each other inappropriately from time-to-time. Keith might even know that while Takashi “Shiro” Shirogane claimed to like his coffee black— “Just like your soul, Cherry Bomb—“ he actually snuck three scoops of sugar into his cup when he thought no one was looking.They’d never discussed anything of the nature, therefore they weren’t dating.Yet, standing there in the middle of the sold out stadium with what felt like all eyes on him, it sure as hell felt like they might be.





	#12

**Author's Note:**

> When I wrote Cherries & Whiskey, I was really just writing a suuuuper self indulgent one-shot that I hadn't even planned on sharing until I wanted to post something on Keith's birthday and it was all I had. So color me surprised when so many folks actually really enjoyed it and wanted more!
> 
> Which, is good, because I also wanted more :3 Disclaimer: We're running with current CFP rules where you gotta win during playoffs at a bowl to go to the National Championships, hence why they're at a bowl game. I also only know your basic fan knowledge of football so sorry if it's really horrible and unrealistic. ~~no the dust bowl is not a real bowl~~
> 
> Also, PEEP THAT COMMISSION I GOT FROM NOCT AT THE END OF IT ALL! I wanted to get a sweet something done because 1) at the time I hadn't even fully realized what was happening here and 2) I wanted to see Keith in that outfit lol So I asked for one of their morning coffee sessions. 
> 
> This oneshot is brought to you largely by the Feels playlist on Apple Music.
> 
> EDIT: Holy shit, y'all, check out this [ amazing artwork from Project Ava!](https://theprojectava.tumblr.com/post/168159161683/fanart-for-for-the-love-of-football-by) She's one of my fave Sheith artists so I'm a wee bit flabbergasted that she would be inspired by this AU. SO EVERYONE GO LOOK OKAY!

_“Are you going to come to the game?”_

_“You know I’m allergic to the conformity of attending a college football game, QB.”_

_“But you’re my good luck charm, and if we win this game, we’re going to Nationals.”_

_“You did fine at all the other games without my presence.”_

_“Do you really want to take that chance? Besides, I’ve got a jersey that would look spectacular on you.”_

_***_

Keith wasn’t sure why he’d given in. Maybe it was the allure of the orange and white practice jersey with 12 emblazoned on it that fulfilled all his football fantasies. Maybe it was the draw of seeing a bowl game that could possibly lead the Garrison Devils to their first National Championship in 23 years. Maybe it was the chance to do something unpredictable.

But most likely it was because the invitation had been whispered into his ear by the quarterback as he’d railed Keith into his headboard. 

Reasoning aside, Keith now found himself outside the stadium, half an hour before kickoff and doing his best impersonation of a chimney. And not just any chimney. One of those dilapidated, black smoke spewing ones found within a Dickens novel. 

He was on his fifth cigarette, his violet eyes dragging lines back and forth over the architecture of the stadium that loomed before him with all the same grace as some gallows. Somewhere beyond the pristine concrete and banners proclaiming _Welcome to the Dust Bowl_ , were a pair of storm colored eyes and strong, capable hands just waiting for his lanky frame and unruly black hair to come and cheer him to victory. 

Well, most likely Shiro was actually waiting for the start of the game that would decide his team’s fate, but he had told Keith that his being there had a direct correlation to the team’s chances of winning and, well, he had been right. Keith didn’t want to take that chance. So he hid his fear of the ever growing star that had been slowly burning behind the cage of his ribs with a thin line of bravado and his orgasm as he’d cried yes for both the request and the pleasure that had torn through him. 

It had taken all of the time between regaining the feeling in his legs and Shiro falling into a deep sleep for the weight of the quarterback’s request to fully settle in, filling him with the kind of brain numbing anxiety that came with all the implications of being Shiro’s good luck charm. 

Somehow, in the two months since Shiro had graced him with his presence and that blessed mouth of his, the football star had become a near permanent presence in his life. With perfect ease, he’d planted his roots in Keith’s soil and grown through him so slowly he hadn’t even realized just how infested his dirt had become until he realized it was too late to uproot him without taking a giant piece of himself with him. 

They hadn’t defined what exactly it was that they were doing. Keith, because while he wasn’t a saint by any means, he had a fear of commitment that left him nearly paralyzed by the mere thought of the label of boyfriend. That same fear was how he’d found himself 21 years old and without a single B word under his belt. There was too much power nestled within the nine letters that would only lead to heartbreak when the inevitable breakup hit. His philosophy? Make each other come, then part ways before anyone could make someone cry. 

And Shiro? Well, Keith had thought Shiro had kept mum on the topic because he was the shining star of the Garrison Devils. A campus celebrity that had an endless supply of love should he need or want it. He’d never had any qualms with being just a notch on the quarterback’s bedpost. Or rather, many, many notches on his bedpost. Had relished in it, actually, because it meant he was safe. Shiro offered him all the comforts of an attractive, kind, smart and funny warm body without the deadly, nine-lettered noose. 

And then he’d asked the question and now everything they’d done since the back of the Audi on Blowjob Street was painted with the sickly shade of Something More. 

The coffee they got each morning walking to class together suddenly had a cavity inducing sweetness that had nothing to do with the beverage he’d clutched between his hands as he’d laughed at something Shiro said. 

The heat of Shiro’s breath on his neck as he fell asleep on his shoulder during their Tuesday evening Chopped marathons suddenly warmed more than just the small patch of skin it tickled. 

The damn school colored practice jersey that hugged his shoulders suddenly felt like the tight embrace of two very strong arms. 

Another drag of his cigarette filled him with smoke that fogged up his thoughts long enough for Keith to pull himself out from under them before he could be crushed to death by their weight. The last thing he wanted to do was die and become a lonely ghost haunting a stadium parking lot. 

Exhaling the sharp smoke and his bitter anxiety through his nose, Keith dropped the used butt and ground it out beneath the heel of his boot while he fished his phone from his pocket. The time flashed across the screen quickly before it registered his thumb, pulling up the last screen it had been on before he’d unceremoniously put it to sleep and not looked at it again. He didn’t even need to look at it to know what the words of the last text he’d received said, having reread it enough times to commit it to memory when he’d first seen them plastered across his screen when he’d woken up.

**I’ll score a TD for you today. Watch for a sign, you’ll know which one is yours.**

Keith was sure it was supposed to sound sweet, some sort of amorous sign of affection, yet no matter how many times he’d repeated them to himself, it sounded like a threat. 

Worst of all was his own reply that glared back at him in all its blue bubbled glory. 

**Looking forward to it ;)**

Traitorous thumbs, Keith never liked them anyway. 

Even now he’d willed them to type up some excuse as to why he couldn’t make it. Food poisoning. Death in the family. Got called into space to fight an intergalactic war in a giant robot. No matter what excuse he dreamt up though, his thumbs hovered over the keyboard, unmoving and apparently uncaring about the situation that the rest of him had found himself in. 

With an angry huff, Keith shoved the phone back into his pocket and swallowed down his heart as it leapt up to meet his tonsils. Pulling back his shoulders and holding his head high, he started to walk his way to the stadium entrance. 

_You made your bed, Kogane_ , he thought to himself as he pulled out the ticket Shiro had left beneath a heart covered coffee mug from his jacket. _Now you gotta lay in it._  

He tried his damnedest to ignore the small voice that retorted back. 

_Preferably with Shiro._

 ***

  
By the time Keith had made it to his seat in the north endzone, he was ready for all the aggressive, testosterone filled, homoerotic antics that football had to offer. His previous anxieties over his feelings for the quarterback— and said quarterback’s own feelings towards him— had only transformed into near rage as he’d fought through the hordes of football fans, catching elbows to his ribs, curious gazes, and a spilled soda that he’d maneuvered around just enough to save Shiro’s jersey. His jeans, however, might not ever recover from the sticky sweet substance that could eat away rust. Who knew what it would do to the distressed denim.   

Needless to say, he was angry, and he was ready to watch the Devils crush the Galra. At least, he thought the other team’s mascot was the Galra. Whatever they were supposed to be, it looked more like a purple people eater than anything else, which was tragic in and of itself.

His fingers itched for another cigarette as he finally dropped into his seat as the refs announced that the Devils had won the coin toss and chosen to defer the kickoff. 

_Good_ , he thought to himself as he fought the urge to pull one of the sticks from the pack and shove it between his teeth. While he wasn’t all too familiar with the social do’s and don’ts at stadiums, he was certain that the short stack with the too big glasses to his left and the hulking guy with the nachos on his right wouldn’t appreciate his carcinogenic fumes. 

Which meant he had a very long few hours ahead of him.

The game kicked off without a hitch, the Galra receiving the ball and being immediately shut down by the Devil’s defense. _Just as it should be_ , Keith thought to himself as he watched hungrily, waiting for the offense to take the field. Much to his building dismay, the Devil offense was also kept far from the goal line, managing only to get close enough for a field goal.

Back and fourth the teams went, both nearly evenly matched in their offensive and defensive powers, which made for an anxiety filled first quarter that ended with a measly score of 3-0 on the board.

“Come on,” he growled, leaning forward in his seat with his elbows on his knees as he watched Shiro and his offense take the field at the beginning of the second quarter. His nerves were tingling as he watched them line up in formation. If he tried hard enough, he could almost imagine he could hear Shiro shouting at his teammates. As the play clock wound down, he watched as the center hiked the ball towards the quarterback who caught it with ease before falling back into his throwing stance. 

While he scanned for an open receiver, Shiro was too busy to see the large Galra player that had made him his target.

Keith bit his lip to stop the yell that was clawing its way up his throat as he watched a hulking linebacker running at Shiro with all the grace of an enraged bull fixated on the orange of the quarterback’s jersey. Without any guards on him, he was certainly going to be sacked. 

And if that happened, well Keith would probably need to head down to the field to take care of this #8 himself. 

He watched with baited breath as the defensive lineman closed in on Shiro as if moving in slow motion, when he saw the shift in the quarterback’s stance. As if sensing the impending strike, he spun on his heel, narrowly avoiding the hit before he took off through a gap set up by his guards. The sound of the crowd grew tenfold as Shiro tore down the field toward the end zone and sending Keith’s heart into his throat as he drew closer. Without realizing it, he found himself on his feet with his hands cupped around his mouth.

“C’mon, Takashi! You’re in the red zone!” He shouted as he watched the quarterback cross yet another field marker. _15 yards..._

_10 yards..._

_5 yards..._

Large #8 showed up out of nowhere, cutting across the field like a shot and leaping towards Shiro, his arms outstretched to wrap around his torso and stop him just short of the goal line. 

“No!” Keith yelled, blood pressure ratcheting up a few notches as he prepared for the inevitable hit. Without so much as a pause, Shiro used the momentum to push himself upwards and sending himself hurdling over the top of the linebacker. For just a moment it looked as if he was suspended in midair, frozen in a perfect leap with the ball held in his outstretched arms to break the plane of the goal line. 

The screams of the crowd were deafening as Keith watched him tuck into the fall and roll over his shoulder, quickly hopping up to his feet with the football raised toward the sky. Shiro’s teammates rushed him, smacking the top of his helmet and back in congratulations, but the quarterback didn’t seem to notice as his attention seemed to be fixated on the stands. Keith watched as Shiro handed the ball to a referee, not bothering to tear his gaze away from where he sat as he brought a gloved hand up to his mouth. Pointing at Keith with his other hand, he stepped back in a throwing stance, pulling the hand he’d kissed back before mimicking the form of a perfect pass directed right at him. 

_I’ll score a TD for you today. Watch for a sign, you’ll know which one is yours._

It felt like a solidly placed punch to the chest as he stood there, eyes wide and mouth gaping as his brain struggled to catch up with what had just happened. 

He, Keith Kogane, was not dating the quarterback of the football team. Sure, they ate lunch together between classes. And yes, maybe they sometimes held bad movie marathons that went so late one of them would end up having to stay over. They may also even touch each other inappropriately from time-to-time. Keith might even know that while Takashi “Shiro” Shirogane claimed to like his coffee black— “Just like your soul, Cherry Bomb—“ he actually snuck three scoops of sugar into his cup when he thought no one was looking. 

They’d never discussed anything of the nature, therefore they weren’t dating. 

Yet, standing there in the middle of the sold out stadium with what felt like all eyes on him, it sure as hell felt like they might be. 

Keith dropped down into his seat, head spinning as his heart beat itself into the back of his sternum. All his nerve endings were on fire as he kept his eyes fixated on the field, panic and heated lightning filling his chest as he watched Shiro run back to the bench. 

_Shit_ _._

Were they dating? 

***

  
The Garrison Devils won, 28-20, clinching their spot at the National Championships and all Keith had to show for it was a confusion and newly heightened blood pressure. The rest of the game had passed in a blur of plays, cheering and Keith dissecting the touchdown that had sent his life into a tailspin. 

After it had happened, he felt phantom gazes on him for the rest of the game, most notably from those that flanked his sides. That, on top of the panic that had coursed through him during the last minute and a half of the game as the Galra had made a valiant effort to try and tie up the game, left him a bundle of raw nerves. 

Almost as soon as he’d crossed the threshold of the stadium, he’d fished his Marlboro Reds from his pocket and had since had one of the cancerous sticks balanced between his lips. 

The entirety of the two hour drive between his apartment and the stadium was highlighted by the hazy smoke that had filled his car alongside the guitars and drums of what Shiro had coined “teenage angst personified.” Rolling his eyes at the remembered statement, he switched the sound off to the radio and continued the rest of the trip simmering in silence, smoke and his own confused thoughts.

He would know if he and Shiro were dating. At least, he had liked to think he would have noticed the football player becoming his boyfriend. It was something Keith was sure required the explicit consent of both parties in order to save anyone from roiling turmoil. 

Self-preservation had always told him to keep everyone at arms length. If his parents could leave him so easily, there was nothing stopping anyone else when they didn’t even have the excuse of being related. Everyone left, and it was better to stop anyone from getting close enough to have anything to leave.

But Shiro had gotten close, and now Keith would have to figure out exactly what they were if he wanted any chance of protecting himself from the inevitable downfall. 

Everyone leaves in the end.

_Get it together,_ he chided himself as he turned off the main road. _You don’t even know how Shiro feels._

Somehow, the thought didn’t help.

It wasn’t until he was reaching under the welcome mat that read “The Neighbors Have Better Stuff” that Keith even realized he hadn’t gone to his apartment at all, but Shiro’s. With an exasperated growl he dropped his head against the wood of the door with a loud thud that echoed down the hall and left his eyes watering. If he was a stronger person, he’d leave the key under the mat and head home like nothing had happened. In fact, if he’d truly understood what self-preservation meant, he’d leave and text the quarterback his congratulations on the win before ghosting him.

But much like at that party, he ignored the obvious sirens and warnings that screamed at him as he pushed the door open and let himself in. Kicking his boots off at the door he made his way further into the apartment that smelled more like home than his did these days.

A small part of him told himself he was just waiting to give him back his jersey, define whatever it was that they were doing, and then make a break for it.

The much larger part of him hummed with the excitement of knowing he would see Shiro soon. 

Rolling his eyes at himself, he threw himself onto the large, plush leather couch that furnished the otherwise sparse living room. Crossing his arms over his chest, he lay on his back and stared up at the popcorn ceiling, drawing shapes into the bumps as he stewed in his conflicting emotions. 

How was he even supposed to ask Shiro how he felt when he didn’t even know how he felt himself?

_You know damn well how you feel_ , that same, nagging voice from earlier sniped at him.

“Shut up,” he growled to the empty apartment as he continued to stare up at the ceiling and tried to become one with the couch. With any luck, he would sink so far down into the cushions by the time Shiro got back, he wouldn’t even notice the Keith shaped dent that had spawned there. 

Time passed as he waited, running over his many tangled thoughts as his lids grew heavy. Sleep pulled over him like a heavy blanket as the living room fell away around him. His thoughts circling like water in a drain as he welcomed the comfortable darkness of sleep.

 ***  


A solid weight settled over Keith’s chest, it’s warmth enveloping him as a nose pressed into the soft skin at the base of his throat and pulled him from the shallow sleep he’d fallen into. Shiro’s own chest rumbled as he breathed him in.

“You look good in school colors, Cherry Bomb,” he purred as he pressed his lips into the dip between his collarbones. “But I think I like you best in red and black.” 

A sleepy chuckle bubbled in his chest as he shook his head, pressing himself against the pressure of Shiro’s mouth.

“I thought you liked me best in nothing at all,” he quipped as he let his eyes slide open. His mind struggled to catch up with the rest of his body as warm hands spread across his abdomen beneath the jersey. 

“Touché,” Shiro hummed as he pushed the fabric up passed his navel. “Let’s make that happen.”

Heat dragged up his torso in the wake of Shiro’s roaming hands as he pulled the jersey up, only pausing long enough for Keith to raise his arms above his head so he could pull it free of his frame. 

“Much better,” he breathed as he dropped the clothing on the other side of the arm rest before he dipped his head down to bite on the fullness of Keith’s bottom lip. The sharp sting dragged him the rest of the way from his sleepy reverie with all the same suddenness of an ice cold bucket of water. His choked sound was swallowed by Shiro’s kiss as he was slammed with reality and all the swirling questions he had fallen asleep with in the first place.

_Are we dating?_

“What’d you think of the game?” The football player asked, his grey eyes sparkling with excitement from his win and something else entirely as he looked down at him. Keith’s stomach squirmed with heat and anticipation as he returned his gaze.

“It aged me more than I would care to admit,” he drawled, trying to make his voice sound light so he wouldn’t ruin the moment with one of the many questions he had desperately wanted to ask. “Congrats on getting to the National Championship, QB.”

“We had to keep it interesting,” he laughed, not sounding sorry at all for the number he and his team had done to Keith’s heart. “But now that we know you are lucky, you have to come to the championship.”

“Hm,” Keith hummed as if he was thinking about it, pushing back the biting voice in the back of his head that wanted answers. “I think I could be persuaded to go.”

“Yeah? Like this?” Shiro growled as he licked a stripe over Keith’s neck vein that sent a shudder over his skin. 

“Or maybe like this,” he hummed as he dragged his hands down Keith’s front, pausing over his hardened length before he gently pressed down against it. A moan erupted from him that stretched an obscene smile across Shiro’s sinful mouth.

“Or maybe like this,” he said as he leant his face down towards his chest. Shiro flicked Keith’s nipple with his tongue as he worked his way down, drawing wildfires down the span of his skin until he reached the peak of his hipbone. His teeth grazed over the skin before he pressed a soft kiss over the abused skin, repeating the gesture until he felt Keith buck up against him. 

Brain stalling and emitting a noise much like a dial up tone, Keith fought to say anything that would save him from the embarrassing keening sounds he was making instead.

_Fuck, Shiro._

_Your mouth is a work of art._

_I need you inside me now._

Anything would work instead of the moans that were tearing from him with a near animalistic timbre. 

“Are we dating?”

Anything, but that. 

Shiro stiffened beneath him for just a moment, his back going rigid beneath Keith’s palm and mouth stilling over his hip as the three words made their way through his brain. Heat rushed up to Keith’s cheeks as he tore his hands away from the quarterback and came up to cover his face. 

He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to suffocate himself with his own hands, but he was damn well going to try. 

Keith felt Shiro’s lips curve upwards against his skin before he pulled away, his weight shifting so that they were chest to chest once more. If he moved his hands from over his eyes, he was certain he would come face to face with storm cloud eyes that would be filled with nothing but kindness and gentle humor. There were many things that Shiro was, including— but not limited to— a great football player; a dean’s list scholar; and an adventurous fuck. But he was also a man that oozed goodness from his every pore, and he would only meet Keith’s embarrassing question with benevolence and sweet understanding. 

Which, was honestly worse than if he’d just make fun of Keith for turning into a teenage trope. _Are we dating?_ He might as well have asked if Shiro liked him. _Like_ liked him. 

Because of this, he kept his hands firmly clasped over his face.

“Keith,” Shiro’s voice was unbearably soft, his name brushing over the backs of his hands. “Look at me.”

 “No, I didn’t say that. Whatever you thought you heard, you didn’t,” he said, voice muffled by his palms. “Please return to using that mouth for something other than talking.”

 “Keith,” he said again, humor coloring his tone a lighter shade of fond as he grabbed his wrists and gently pulled his hands away from his face. His eyes were shining silver as he held Keith’s amethyst gaze, their corners crinkling with his smile.

 “Do you want to be dating?” It was such a simple question that managed to filled Keith with the sharp sting of embarrassment as he tried to look anywhere else besides Shiro’s open and honest face. His own felt like it was on fire as a blush colored his cheeks the brightest shade of red.

“No,” he replied almost tersely, his lips jutting out in a half formed pout. Though Shiro kept his face composed, he felt the way his hands twitched over the bone of his wrists, the small movement causing his stomach to drop. 

“Not no,” he remedied, eyes flicking towards Shiro’s filled with unsaid apology. “Maybe? It just feels like it sometimes, and I don’t know what we’re doing.”

Keith watched as Shiro shook his head slowly, laughing under his breath as he let go of one of his hands, instead bringing his palm up to his cheek and dragging the pad of his thumb over Keith’s cheekbone.

“We haven’t known each other very long, but it’s been long enough to learn that you can’t stand your food touching on a plate, you scrunch up your nose when you’re deep in thought, and you don’t like labels.” Shiro’s mouth was turned up slightly as he spoke, eyes sparkling as he looked down at Keith as if he was looking at a one of a kind artifact instead of a punk kid with apparently too many feelings. He kept hold of Keith’s gaze as he leant down, giving him any chance to stop him, though he had to know he wouldn’t. 

“I would love to call you mine, but I’ve never asked because I don’t want to force you into something you don’t want. If all you want to give is this,” he began to press open mouthed kisses over Keith’s pulse, his tongue coaxing its rhythm to grow quicker before he pulled away just enough to continue speaking. “Then this is all I need.”

Shiro’s words had created a supernova in his chest as he spoke, sending flares of heated plasma every which way in his body until it felt as if he was on fire. Somehow, he had managed to unwind the vast tangling of Keith’s very existence and get to his very core without ever actually making it known that he had done so. In just two month, Shiro had worked his way through every crack in Keith’s foundation and discovered the one thing he had tried to keep safeguarded from all others. What had been a method of self-preservation that would have sent anyone else running, Shiro had wholly welcomed it, even going as far as to sacrifice his own wants in order to give Keith what he wanted.

“Takashi,” Keith breathed his name, voice trembling slightly. “I am yours.”

It was an admission he hadn’t even truly realized until the moment it had left his mouth, his tongue forming the words before his brain could even fire a stop command to the muscle. The decision was lost to him as he spoke with sincerity, revealing his truths before the both of them while almost naked on his back on Shiro’s worn leather couch. 

As far as life altering revelations went, he supposed he could be doing worse.

The quarterback’s smile captured all the light from the room as he pushed forward to press a chaste kiss to Keith’s lips. It was a quick motion that was gone almost as soon as it started as Shiro pulled back to speak.

“Is this what I get for getting you a touchdown?” His voice was filled with the lighthearted teasing that Keith had become accustomed to as their normal, easing them both from the weighted topic easily as if he hadn’t just bared his emotional jugular to the football player. It was exactly what he’d needed, and it only made his heart pound harder, almost as if it was trying its best to reach Shiro itself. 

“No,” he said almost defiantly, as he slipped back behind his sarcastic demeanor made of barbed wire. 

Only one person was allowed behind the sharpened metal, and he was going to make damn sure he knew that.

Bringing his hands up to grasp at the back of Shiro’s hair, Keith anchored him as he crashed their lips together in a much harder kiss. Electricity zipped through him in an excited rush as it dragged an explicit moan from the football player. Fingers holding him in place, Keith thrust his tongue between his open teeth, licking their backs and collecting his taste on its tip before retreating. He dragged his lips away, brushing their slick fullness across Shiro’s cheek and to his ear.

“I need you, Shiro,” he whispered, biting back a satisfied purr when he felt the way the quarterback shivered under his touch. “I need you to fuck me.”

Something about the words flipped a switch in them both as Shiro growled loudly in Keith’s ear, grinding his hips down into him with near punishing strength before he ripped out of Keith’s grasp. Sitting back on his haunches between Keith’s thighs, he looked down at him with a fire tempering the steel of his eyes, a wicked smile pulling up past his canines. It was amazing to him how this same Shiro that looked like the devil himself was the same one that had just said such sweet things. 

The abrupt change made his stomach quiver as the quarterback made quick work of the fastenings of Keith’s pants while he reached for the lube they’d discarded beneath the couch during their last living room fuck.

As his fingers brushed over the smooth plastic of the bottle, Shiro pulled Keith’s pants down, standing as he tugged the denim and boxers off together passed his ankles and discarded the fabric on the floor. He clumsily tore at his own jeans in an artless display that was not one of his finest moments, and yet Keith couldn’t help but find himself endeared by the way he hopped out of the denim that had confined him. Keith shook the bottle in Shiro’s direction as he dropped his jeans onto the clothes pile. 

With a quick tug at his Garrison Devils shirt, the football player stood before him in all his naked glory as if Michelangelo’s David had come to life and waltzed into the room. Keith only had a moment to admire the hard lines of his body, beat into him during long practices and probably by God himself, before Shiro launched himself back at him. Fingers closing over the bottle in his hand, he pressed forward for another heated kiss made entirely of tongue and teeth as he ground their hardened lengths together in a practiced move that made him gasp. 

Only vaguely aware of the soft snap of the cap coming undone, Keith lost himself in the kiss, inhaling everything that Shiro was as he ran his hands over every inch of skin they could explore. He wanted everything the football player had to offer even though it still wouldn’t have felt like enough. But he had to try, because if he tried, maybe he could truly show him just how he felt.

_I am yours._

_I am yours._

_You are mine._

It wasn’t until he felt the touch of Shiro circling his entrance with a slicked finger that he pulled away from both his thoughts and the kiss. Their eyes connected as he pushed inside, the intrusion sending a thrill through him that dragged a moan passed his teeth. Heat filled his stomach as Shiro began to move his finger, gently working him open.

“And what will you do if I don’t?” He asked, his lips brushing over Keith’s as he spoke. Even without being able to see his mouth, he knew that Shiro wore a grin that would have stopped his heart in its tracks. As if it wasn’t already having enough problems maintaining a rhythm as he brushed over his prostate, causing him to jump into the touch.

“I-I won’t go to the—” Keith’s statement was cut off by a growl as Shiro added a second finger, scissoring them into the heat of his entrance. Stars were blistering behind his eyelids as he fought to catch his breath and bite out the rest of his thought. 

“Won’t go to the game.”

While the threat had lost its luster amidst his pitchy gasps, he felt Shiro’s chest rumble against him. Pulling back, the football player shifted so that he was pushed back on one knee between Keith’s thighs, his other leg draped over his as he used it to leverage himself over him. 

Keith’s pulse worked itself into triple time as he placed his other hand at the center of his collarbone, his fingers brushing lightly over the vein of his neck as he admired the way the blood jumped beneath his touch. Fire and hunger blazed in the space between them, making the air thick with anticipation.

“Well, I guess I shouldn’t chance it then,” Shiro growled. The juxtaposition of his smile with his roughened voice would have made Keith laugh if the football player hadn’t slid his palm further up his chest until it rested over his neck.

Shiro’s hand covered the whole of his throat, his palm pressing down lightly as his fingers tightened just enough to restrict his breathing but not cut it off completely. Still, he held his gaze as his head began to swim with the headiness of his lack of breath as Shiro pushed in a third finger. Working his digits against him, Shiro twisted and curled inside him, fingers brushing just barely over the spot that sent spasms up his spine. 

“Shiro,” Keith gasped as he pressed harder into the sensitive area, causing his back to arch. It felt so good it was almost unbearable as he tried to press himself down further onto Shiro’s fingers. He watched as the quarterback smiled down at him, pupils blown so wide he could no longer see any of the liquid silver of his irises.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he said as he gave another ruthless twist of his fingers. A near sob tore out of him at the touch.

“Please.”

The plea was a single, strangled breath as he writhed beneath the football player, struggling to hold onto some sense of self before he came undone completely. His nails dragged angry lines over Shiro’s biceps as he dropped another kiss onto Keith’s lips, his movement so clumsy that he landed just to the right of his mouth as he pulled his fingers out. With a quick tug at his knee, Shiro pulled Keith’s leg up so that it wrapped around his hip as he was leant over him. It was such a quick shift in position that there was only a moment for Keith to register the change before before Shiro had aligned himself with his entrance and pushed in with a soft grunt. 

The stretch of his insides as Shiro filled him nearly threw him over the edge as he slowly rocked into him, allowing Keith time to adjust to the stretch as the friction pulled delicious sighs from his lips. Shiro swallowed them like candy as he captured them with his mouth, using his tongue to pull them in as he continued his torturous pace.

Clawing at his back, Keith tried to urge him to move harder and faster. To fuck into him until he was drooling and couldn’t speak. Bucking up into Shiro, his own dick brushing against the hard line of the quarterback’s stomach and causing his abdominals to flutter at the touch. 

There were so many things he wanted to say to spur him into a harder rhythm that would have him panting as if he’d just run a marathon, but all he could manage was a steady cadence of moans and occasional yeses. 

“You always sound so hot, Cherry Bomb,” Shiro moaned between kisses as he began to to rock quicker, losing control of his pace with each gasp that Keith made. 

Heat filled the base of Keith’s gut as his body fought to press as close to Shiro as it could, his hips bucking with his thrusts so that his dick rubbed against the sensitive spot that sent stars exploding across the backs of his eyelids. His nails dug deep into muscle as his cries grew louder, no longer muffled by the quarterback’s mouth as he had moved down to the crook of his neck. 

Hot breath tickled his skin as Shiro grunted into his pulse. Keith’s heart stuttered as the taut fire in his belly barreled straight towards his climax as Shiro’s thrusts hit against his prostate and friction of his stomach muscles against his dick stole the last of his control.

“Shiro,” Keith breathed, head falling back as he arched further. It was the only warning he could get out before he came between them, the white ribbons of come slicking them both with its sticky wetness. A rush of tingling numbness ran itself from its core outwards in both directions as Shiro continued his thrusts, his own climax hitting him just moments later. It sent a shudder through them both as he cried out, Keith still clutching at him to hold him close as he rode out his orgasm. 

Both their breathing was heavy as they laid there, Shiro on top of him with his face pressed into his neck, pressing lazy kisses to whatever skin he could reach with the least amount of movement. 

Silence fell over them as they reveled in their afterglow, sharing their warmth as they lay together on Shiro’s couch. It was in that silence that Keith recalled Shiro’s question, his chest shaking with his quiet laughter.

_Is this what I get for getting you a touchdown?_

“What is it?” Shiro asked, not bothering to look up at him from where he’d tucked his face into his nape. Limbs still heavy with the buzzing after effects of his pleasure, Keith pulled his arm up lazily so he could card his fingers through Shiro’s hair.

“That, is what you get for getting me a touchdown, QB.”

What he really meant, was that was what he got for being his boyfriend. They rang with his true intent, and he was sure Shiro heard them, his acknowledgement showing in the way he melted further into Keith. A low chuckle rocked them both as Shiro replied.

“Well then I wonder what I’ll get when I get you a National Championship.”

 

******************

Commission by Noct! [Twitter](https://twitter.com/nocturneis) // [Tumblr](http://noct-art.tumblr.com/)


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